


One Finger on the Pulse

by mischiefgoddesscomplex



Category: Tasertricks - Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Mild Depiction of Violence, Sexual Content, Smut, Vampire/Vampire Hunter AU, a little blood, but it's a vampire au so what did you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2534777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischiefgoddesscomplex/pseuds/mischiefgoddesscomplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki hails from a long line of vampires. Darcy Lewis hails from a long line of vampire hunters. She's slated to make her first kill that night, and when things don't quite go to plan, Loki finds himself irresistibly drawn to the mortal girl. And it's not long before she starts feeling the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Finger on the Pulse

**Author's Note:**

> I've cooked up some shameless Halloween smut for you all, because tis the season and such. I'd like to say that there's some bare-bone plot in here, but I'll let you all be the judge of that. Because I'm so sure that's why you're all here anyway. The plot, right? Right. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are lovely and always appreciated.

Darcy sat crouched in the alleyway, shivering as a chilly breeze blew by her. Across the street, the Manhattan club thumped as the sound of auto-tuned rap and pop songs shook the building. Swarms of costumed people mingled in and around the night club, and she could practically smell the alcohol from where she sat.

Well, that and the god-awful stench of trash from the dumpster to her left.

She nestles one earbud into her ear, clicking a playlist on her iPod before stuffing it back in her pocket. It’s going to be a long night. She might as well play some tunes to keep her company next to the pile of rotting trash. 

This was definitely not how she envisioned spending Halloween night. But it wasn’t exactly a surprise, either. 

Shifting her position, she lets her legs relax a little, making sure the gun, taser, and wooden dagger were still securely in reach on her utility belt. “Sweet costume!” Some drunk had called out at her earlier in the night, eyeing her tight black bodysuit with obvious lust. He probably thought she was a secret agent, or assassin, something really cutesy like that. 

She doubted ‘vampire hunter’ had even crossed his mind. 

But that’s what she was, and it definitely wasn’t any costume. 

Darcy came from a long line of vampire hunters. A _very_ long line. Her father had once told her a story about how one of their ancestors was related to Van Helsing - _thee_ Van Helsing, the legendary vampire slayer and killer of Dracula - but she’s not sure just how much stock she was willing to put into that story. Still pretty badass to imagine, though. 

She had no clue about her lineage or family business until her fifteenth birthday. That’s when her father told her everything. And when she started her training. “Every Lewis makes their first kill in their twenty-fifth year, on Halloween night,” Her father had said, setting her down at the kitchen table and explaining it like it was as average as talking about college applications, or report cards, or boys. “We’ve got ten years to prepare you. Trust me, in time, you’ll be ready. You’ll carry on the tradition, you’ll make us all proud.” 

As if high school wasn’t enough, talk about the pressure of upholding the family name of elite vampire slayers. 

Except Darcy didn’t feel ready at all, despite the years of training. Learning about the craft was one thing. She could imagine what it might be like to see a vampire, all the different techniques of disarming them, of killing them. She’d studied them, their history, their habits, their predilections. Ugly, fowl, undead creatures of the night. They were the enemy. It was drilled into her from day one. 

She put on a brave face, she acted tough. But their was a little seed of fright buried deep inside her mind. She didn’t ask for this. What if she failed? Or worse…what if she was killed in the process?

Darcy shivers at the thought, shaking her head slightly. There was no time to dwell on any of her apprehensions now. Because two months ago, Darcy had turned twenty-five. And tonight was Halloween night. 

Darcy narrows her gaze at the nightclub across the street, eyes settling on a man with slicked back blonde hair and a neck tattoo, walking out of the club and down the sidewalk. She whips out her cell phone, double-checking the image description of the vampire her father had sent her. There was meant to be a black, pentagram, cult-like tattoo on his neck. Looking up, Darcy does a double take at the man. The tattoo was a match.

This was her mark.

Quickly, she stuffs her earbuds back into her pocket, a wave of jitters rushing through her. Her heartbeat settles into a frantic rhythm as she pushes herself off the ground, trying her hardest to blend into the masses of people surging around her on this Halloween night.

Careful not to lose track of him on the busy New York street, she hangs back a few feet, only looking up ahead at him every thirty seconds. As unprofessional as it is, her right hand is glued to the gun on her holster. It’s a dead giveaway should he turn around and look back, but she can’t help herself. Her nerves are starting to take over. 

She trails him for a few blocks, weaving in and out of the city traffic. He looks over his shoulder twice, as if he can sense he’s being followed, and Darcy’s blood pumps like ice through her veins. When he darts down an alleyway, Darcy knows she has to make her move - it’s now or never.

She breaks out into a sprint, hand simultaneously lifting her gun out of its holster. Her footsteps echo around her as she darts into the alleyway, hands fumbling around her gun. _Dammit, Lewis, pull it together._

Only a few dim building lights hang overhead in the alley, one of them ominously flickering. She squints into the darkness, gun raised at eye-level. Gone was the element of surprise - she knows he had to have heard her running up behind him. Her breathing is ragged in her chest, palms sweaty as she grips the gun tighter. But the alleyway is a dead-end…and she doesn’t see him. 

A rush of air blows by her neck, and she whirls around, swinging the gun haphazardly. The blonde vampire is looming over her, closing the few short steps between them with a sinister smile on his nasty face. He bares his fangs, and Darcy freezes.

This is it. Everything she’s ever been trained for. Her mind screams for her to pull the trigger, to run, to call out for help even. Anything but stand there, frozen and terrified. Her body refuses to obey her - instead she watches the vampire she’s meant to kill step even closer to her. 

Her arms shake, her fingers wrapped around the trigger but not squeezing. Goodbye, cruel world. Some halloween this was. She didn’t even get a chance to get drunk. Not that it matters anymore. Not that anything matters anymore. It’s too late.

She closes her eyes, pressing them tightly together, bracing herself for the blow. Except the blow never comes. 

Darcy opens her eyes just in time to see the vampire fall to the ground with a thud, a wooden stake stabbed clean through his chest. She jumps back as he keels completely over - totally lifeless. Letting go of a shaky gasp, her eyes travel upwards - there’s a man standing behind the vampire’s corpse. 

He’s tall - easily north of six feet, and he has the domineering stance of someone with true power. His hair is wild, black, untamable, a stark contrast against his pale skin and cutting cheekbones. He’s dressed in all black leather - both jacket and pants - with dark green scarf stylishly draped down his neck. His matching green eyes seem to glisten as he looks from the body back up to Darcy, and when he smirks at her, that’s when she sees them. His fangs.

He’s one of them. 

Instantly, she snaps her gun back up, aiming it straight at his chest and trying to sound brave, “I’ll kill you; I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

He raises one eyebrow, amused, “You mean, just like you killed him?” 

Darcy furrows her brows together. He was a smooth talker; a voice like silk, and with a British accent. She’d learned about these kinds of vampires - the ones with silver tongues. They could charm themselves in or out of any situation. They weren’t unheard of, but they were rare.

“I was just caught off guard, that’s all,” She explains, finding herself justifying her actions to him, “But now I’m not.” 

The vampire shrugs like she’s made a valid point, “I think you’re lying. I’m not the one you were meant to kill tonight. Honestly, you should be _thanking_ me. I’ve just done your job for you.” 

“What are you talking about?” Darcy snaps, her head spinning. 

“I’ve just killed your vampire,” He states like it’s obvious, “I didn’t do it for you, of course. You being here was purely coincidental. I’d been tracking him for sometime. He was an insufferable prick, indebted to me for centuries; really, he had it coming.” He pauses, as though something has just occurred to him, “In fact, maybe _I_ should be thanking _you_. You’re the one who distracted him, after all.” 

Darcy blinks, staring at the silver-tongued vampire with a mixture of incredulity and confusion. She should put the wooden bullet straight through his chest right now. Nothing is stopping her. And he hadn’t made any obvious attack on her - he appeared to be unarmed. Why hadn’t he killed her yet? He was the enemy, everything she’d ever learned to hate. But she still can’t pull the trigger on him. 

The vampire grins at her obvious hesitation, as though he can read her like an open book, “Oh, come now. Not all of us are so terrible. Of course, we all have our vices…” His voice growls a little as he lets his sentence hang between them. 

“Let me buy you a drink. Just to express my gratitude.” He continues with a sly smile after she offers up no response, still staring him down across the barrel of her gun. He steps out of the way, giving her a clear path out of the alleyway, “Of course, you could just as well go home. But I think drinks would be more fun, don’t you?”

This is ridiculous. Darcy shakes her head. Is this really happening? She lowers her gun, still wary of the monster in front of her. He’s made it clear he’s not going to harm her, but she still tenses as she walks past him, ready to escape the alley and for this night to be over.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” She mumbles as she breezes by him and out into the chilly city air once more. It should help clear her head, but her thoughts still swim around maddeningly. Not only had she failed to kill her mark, she’d let another vampire go by unscathed. What was wrong with her? It was best for her to run home and forget this whole disaster of a night had even happened.

But she hasn’t walked more than a block before he’s by her side again, matching her stride for stride. His sudden appearance causes her to jolt with surprise. 

“Jesus!” She cries, her hand instantly and instinctively reaching for the gun at her waist. It causes the vampire to chuckle darkly.

“Close, but I go by Loki,” He replies smoothly, bearing his fangs with his smile. “So, I take it that was a no on the drinks then, _vampire hunter?_ ” He asks, raising one questioning eyebrow. "You _are_ curious." 

“No,” Darcy tries to say with firmness, but it comes out quieter than she’d planned. Damn him. Why was he still following her? Why was he so persistent? 

“No as in yes, you’ll have drinks with me?” Loki asks hopefully, charmingly, and she can see his wicked smile out of the corner of her eyes. 

Despite it all, she finds it disarmingly attractive. Vampires were not supposed to be so goddamn hot, were they? Was he just the exception? She looks back at the street in front of her, setting her lips into a hard line. She was not about to fall prey to his allure so easily. 

“Why are you still following me?” She asks point blank, counting down the number of blocks she has left in her head until she finally reaches the solitude of her apartment. 

“Would you rather not be in your savior’s company right now?” Loki asks with a mock-humbleness evident in his tone. “I am wounded, darling. But, as you wish.”

With what might be the sexiest wink Darcy’s ever seen in her life, he’s gone in the blink of an eye. It causes her to stop and look around wildly. She’d read about vampire’s quick reflexes, but never had she imagined it to be anything so smooth and fluid as that. 

Once she’s certain he’s not following her, she makes her way quickly back to her apartment. She can’t get him out of her head though, with his wicked grin and emerald eyes. How unexpected their entire encounter had been. Why he hadn’t made a move to kill her. Could it be true what he said? Not all vampires were wired to murder? It goes against everything she knows. And yet…there he was.

The Halloween bustle is still in full swing in the bars she passes, and as much as she’d love to go out and party, the thought alone is enough to exhaust her. No, right now she just needs to go home, gorge on candy and wine, and maybe pop in a movie. While taking a bubble bath. Yes, a bubble bath sounds like exactly the right kind of therapy. 

As she climbs the stairs to her apartment, her phone buzzes with a text from her father: _How did it go?_

She pauses on the stairwell, swallowing nervously as her thumbs hover over the keypad: _He’s dead._

It wasn’t exactly a lie. 

She shoves her phone back into her pocket, pulling out her singular apartment key. She jams it into the lock, twisting her door knob and opening the door. And the first thing she notices is that her apartment feels chillier than normal. Had she left a window open on accident? 

Throwing her key into a bowl by the door, she reaches for the light switch. And when the room illuminates, the sight before her causes her to suck in a terrified breath. 

There, sitting casually at her kitchen table, was none other than Loki, nursing a glass of wine in his hand. He looks up at her, a small grin spreading across his face as he lifts the wine up in a salute, “I just realized I never caught your name, and how terribly rude that was of me.”

Her eyes dart from him to the open kitchen window behind him, the breeze blowing the curtain in slow waves. That sneaky son of a bitch. Her hands reach for her gun, pulling it up to eye level and actually releasing the safety this time. 

“Dude, you can’t just, like, break into people’s apartments,” She spits out, flustered to say the least. “I…I should shoot you.” 

He sets his wine glass down, rolling his eyes ever so slightly. When he pushes himself out of his chair and take a step closer to Darcy, she tries to hold the gun a little straighter, locking her muscles into place. 

“Now, I see two _glaring_ problems with that threat,” Loki comments with nonchalance, “One is that it was delivered with absolutely no conviction. If you’re going to be a vampire hunter, darling, at least act the part.” 

He takes a step even closer, holding her gaze with those smoldering eyes of his, “And two…if you were going to shoot me, you and I both know you would have done so long ago.” He says this last part quietly, almost menacingly, and he reaches out to grab the barrel of her gun. Not to yank it away, but to jab it squarely into his chest, right where his heart would be. 

“So go ahead,” He says softly, tauntingly, tilting his head down so that their faces are closer together in this position, “Shoot me.” 

Darcy gazes up at him, meeting his fiery gaze. All she has to do is squeeze the trigger. One little squeeze and it’s all over. She swallows hard, biting down on her lip, the truth she’d refused to acknowledge now bubbling to the surface. She can’t do it. 

He grins at her, reading this admission on her face as he pushes the gun away. It swings back down to Darcy’s side, and he chuckles darkly, “That’s what I thought.”

“What do you want from me?” Darcy asks, her voice low and hoarse. She clicks off the safety, setting the gun on the table next to her. She’s not scared of him anymore. She’s not sure if she ever was. 

“For starters, your name,” He growls, and the sound seems to send a jolt straight to her, resonating low in her stomach. The longer she stares at him, the harder it is to deny herself of him, and she’s not sure why that doesn’t frighten her like it should.

“Darcy,” She replies, holding his gaze. They still have not moved any further apart, with him looming over her, eyes boring straight into her soul.

“Darcy,” He repeats the name like he’s tasting it, testing it out on his tongue, liking how it sounds, “As I told you before: I am not here to harm you. You have my word. I simply want what we all do. Fulfillment. Pleasure.” He pauses, his hand reaching out to clasp around her wrist, gently bringing the underside of it to his mouth as he speaks against her skin, “A warm body to hold at night.” 

Darcy’s breathing stutters slightly as he presses his lips against her pulse, gently sucking on the exposed skin, kissing it softly. The whole time, he keeps his eyes locked on hers. Holy shit, that was hot. This can not be okay. She feels the blush creep into her cheeks, her whole body heating up at his touch. 

“And what is it that you want, Darcy?” He murmurs, bringing her hand up to his face, letting her cup his cheek, her fingertips spreading back out into his hair. 

“I…I don’t know,” She admits quietly, transfixed by his seductions. In the back of her mind, she knows what she wants very clearly, and it involves the two of them in very promiscuous positions. But it goes against every fiber of her being. He’s a vampire. She’s a hunter. This is not how it’s meant to be. Is it? 

“Then perhaps I can enlighten you,” Loki purrs with a low timbre, and with a singular tilt of his head, he’s brought his lips down onto hers, gently coaxing them into giving them what they both want. 

Darcy closes her eyes at the sensation, moving her lips hesitantly in response, testing the way he feels on her mouth. Sweet, soft, urgent. And she decides it’s divine.

She moans a little as he sucks on her bottom lip, leaving it plump and swollen before lazily flicking his tongue into her mouth and deepening the kiss. Eagerly, she pushes herself into him, angling her body closer to his tall, lean frame. 

The hand of hers already on his face reaches back to tangle itself in his long, black mane, gripping onto his hair in encouragement. When a groan escapes from the back of his throat, she knows she’s a goner. 

Somehow they find themselves moving into her bedroom, both still eagerly pursuing each other’s mouths in a passionate game of push and pull. Loki’s hands travel up her sides, tracing her curves, making her shiver and moan into his mouth. He undoes her black suit’s zipper at an agonizing pace, letting his fingers brush against her exposed skin as he goes. When he finally pushes it off her shoulders, he pauses to step back and admire her.

“You are exquisite,” He says, eyeing her in just her matching set of black bra and underwear. Thank god she at least had the sensibility to do that while getting dressed this morning. 

He shrugs out of his jacket and lifts his own shirt above his head, and Darcy almost pants out at the mere sight of him. His well-defined abs look like they’ve been chiseled out of stone, his dips and planes leading her eyes to all the right places. He’s muscular, but it’s more lean and cut than bulky; it suits his frame like he was crafted by the gods. She actually licks her lips slightly, greedily taking it all in. 

“Not too bad yourself,” She manages to quip back, just before he lifts her up with surprising ease and lays her down on the bed, a hungry look in his eyes.

He adorns her neck with kisses, starting just below her jaw and working his way down to the top of her breast. Her skin vibrates at the feeling of his mouth covering her, sending a wave goosebumps across her skin. His tongue flicks out, licking at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, sucking gently. 

“Not to, um, kill the mood here,” She whispers while he lavishes her with his tongue, “But how do you, you know…?”

She can feel his lazy grin against her neck, signaling that he’s following what she’s implying. He is technically undead, after all, and Darcy can’t help but wonder where the blood-flow to get the job done will come from. And the job _will_ get done, she’s already made up her mind about that.

Loki pulls back to look at her, his hair falling into his eyes as he looks at her intently, “I promised I will bring you no harm, and I intend to follow that. But if you desire what you say you do, then there is only one way to achieve it.”

“How?” She asks, her voice no more than a breathy whisper.

He lowers his mouth to her neck, kissing her once more, hot and open-mouthed and claiming. Only this time she can feel the brush of his fangs against her skin.

“I require your blood,” He growls lightly, making it sound like the hottest goddamn thing in the entire world, “Not enough to change you. Certainly not enough to incapacitate you. Just a few drops.” He raises his head up closer to the shell of her ear, grazing it with his hot breath as he whispers, “If you allow me this, I can show you pleasure no mortal man has ever been able to give you. That is my guarantee.” 

As if for emphasis, he pushes himself against her, grinding at her pelvis, making her pant out a few shaky breaths. Her mind and body are both swimming in sensory-overload, but she knows what she wants. And prejudices, family honor, reputations and titles be damned: she wants _this,_ only if for a night. 

She nods her head, voice barely a whimper, giving him permission to have his way with her. In response, he begins to slowly kiss down from her ear back to a point in the middle of her neck, wetting it with his tongue. 

The _schlick_ of his fangs is audible as his mouth hovers just above her neck, and she shivers out of anticipation. When his fangs finally sink down into her neck, she cries out, writhing against him. Her fingers grasp franticly at his back, seeking some sort of purchase. 

The sensation is similar to needle pricks at first, but as he sucks at her wounds, the feeling soon shifts entirely. She can’t help the low moan that escapes her lips, her eyes threatening to roll back in pleasure as he sucks at her. It’s turned into a tingling sensation, pulsing right under her skin as he takes from her neck. She’d be okay with dying if it meant this was her last sensation.

It’s short-lived however, and after only what must have been thirty seconds but felt like an hour, he’s looking back up into her eyes, licking at a drop of blood on his lips as he grins lazily. Fuck, the sight itself was threatening to make her come on the spot. 

Thankfully, he senses her needs, and this time when he grinds into her through their clothing, there is rock-hard evidence of his growing arousal. She moans and cants her hips up, rubbing herself against the obviously growing tent in his pants. 

“Young, beautiful mortals,” He chides, his voice low and reprimanding, “Always so eager.” He slides his hand between them, pressing a finger against her panties, already soaked through. She gasps at his long, slender digit as he pushes her underwear off and slides his finger inside, slicking himself in her folds. He leans down and kisses her mouth once more before grinning, “And you are no exception.”

He unzips his pants, pulling out his member and guiding the tip to her entrance. Darcy squirms underneath him, already desperate for release and he hasn’t even entered her. He sighs as he begins to rub himself against her wetness, and Darcy whimpers at this new friction. 

“Such a responsive little mortal,” He says with lustful admiration, “I wonder what you’ll sound like as I thrust up into your wet heat, stroking at your core. Would you like that, darling?” 

“ _Fuck,_ ” She lets out with a strangled whimper, her brain starting to leak out of her ears. There was no way she’d survive much longer with all of his dirty talk. “Yes, Loki… _please._ ” 

The sound of the pleading in her voice on her last word is enough encouragement for him. He leans down, covering her mouth with his while simultaneously thrusting his cock deep inside of her. The both of them moan into each other’s mouths, tongues swirling together as he sinks in and buries himself to the hilt. He was big, bigger than she’d anticipated, and instantly her walls clench around him as she adjusts to his length. 

“Please move...you have to move,” Darcy pants out, begging, needing to feel him moving inside of her. 

Loki pulls out slowly, agonizingly, and groans himself as he lets go of her tightness. “You like to be in control, don’t you, mortal?” He asks, eyes blazing as he looks down at her. “I think I have a solution to that.” 

In one swift motion - so fast Darcy isn’t even cognizant of it happening - he has flipped them over so that Darcy is straddling his waist, and he is sprawled out underneath her on the bed. She places both hands on his chest for stabilization, her long tendrils of hair falling down her shoulders, almost reaching his face. Well, _fuck._

“Ride me,” Loki commands, “I want to feel your walls clench around me as you come screaming my name.”

As if she needs any encouragement, he slides his hands down her figure, coming around and gripping her ass as he rocks her forward, grinding her against his erection. Darcy cries out a little at the feeling that comes with her new position. Suffice to say, she likes it. 

She finds his tip and sinks down onto him, both groaning again. She rocks her hips forward, milking his cock in a way that leaves him panting in her ear as she slides up his chest. Soon enough, he’s thrusting his hips up to meet her, the two of them moving in unison as she continues to grind down onto him. 

“ _Fuck,_ just like that,” She moans, relishing in the way he fills her up completely with every thrust. He was definitely making good on his promise - she’s never felt so pleasured by any one man before.

She swivels her hips; he groans in response. He thrusts up sharply into her core, and she lets out strangulated cries of pleasure. Every time he moves, he hits just the right spot deep inside of her, and she knows her orgasm is coming long before she can feel the tight coil of heat pooling at her center. 

She bounces on top of him, sliding up and down his chest, riding his cock as their pace grows more frantic, each of them seeking their release now. For Darcy, she knows it’s only a matter of time, so when he presses his lips to her ear, it’s the final straw. 

“Come for me, Darcy,” He growls in her ear as she whimpers incoherent sounds, “I can give you the sweet release you crave.” He slides a hand between them, rubbing one long, slender digit against her clit. 

Darcy cries out sharply, everything in combination finally pushing her over the edge. Her toes curl as she tightens around him, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her and over him. She sobs out his name in her release, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she rides out her orgasm.

Loki moans as he continues to thrust up into her, forcing her to feel him throughout her orgasm until he too finally comes with a single jolt. He groans in pleasure as he spills himself into her, the two of them reaching their climaxes simultaneously. 

When Darcy begins to float down from her post-coital haze, she finds herself slumping onto Loki’s chest in exhaustion, her breathing labored. Her body is thrumming with endorphins, her mind hazy with immense satisfaction. 

Loki wraps his arms around her back, gently rubbing circles into the space between her shoulder blades. The last things she remembers before drifting off to sleep is the way he kisses her temple: so soft and sincere. 

As far as nice things to remember before drifting off to sleep go, this wasn’t so bad.

________________________________________

Darcy wakes in the morning feeling rested and satisfied. She wearily blinks her eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. That’s when she realizes she’s sore all over.

She rolls over on the bed to see the other side empty, no trace of her mysterious lover except for a small sheet of paper placed squarely on the pillow. A shaft of sunlight beams squarely into the spot where he would have been, and she supposes, all things considered, she can’t blame him for leaving. She picks up the paper, holding it in front of her face as she reads.

_Sweetest Darcy,_

  
_I do hope to run into you again soon. While I may have satisfied_ my _thirst, I believe I still owe you that drink I promised. x_  


__

Loki

Darcy reads the letter over again once more before setting it back down. Raising two fingers to her neck, she gingerly presses them against the two, small circular bites that mark her skin.

She smiles lazily to herself, remembering in vivid detail the way he had made her feel. And how, despite everything, their connection had been so strong. Never in a million years would she have imagined a vampire to be capable of that kind of pleasure. And never in a million years would she have imagined letting herself be pleasured by one. 

But a million years isn’t forever. And maybe - just maybe - things could change, after all.


End file.
